Regia Marina Redenta
by Curiositatis
Summary: Italians have always been known for their fine foods, culture and architecture... but their warships? As girls? You're kidding, right? This little tale follows the adventures of heavy cruiser Fiume and the Pacific Squadron as they set out for the Far East. Part of the Operation Eclipse series.
1. The Beginning

The derisive screech of the nesting seagulls could be heard as the sun set over the brilliant Mediterranean, its rays casting a warm glow over the whitewashed buildings of the harbour. A solitary man stood at one of the large bay windows that adorned the villa at the marina forefront, the buttons of his navy blue coat gleaming in the orange glow.

"Ammiraglio? Where are you, Ammiraglio?" A high-pitched voice sang, echoing through the house.

"I'm here, Fiume!" the Ammiraglio called. He strode away from the windows and sidled behind his study desk, pretending to check his papers. In a brief moment Fiume burst in, dressed in her usual striped blouse and dress and long white and red striped socks.

"You called, sir?" Fiume stopped in front of his desk, on her tiptoes. The Ammiraglio surveyed her for a moment. considering the task at hand. In a quick decision he pushed all misgivings out and prepared himself to deliver the task.

"I've been reading of your work in the field, Fiume," he began. It was a crafty start, and already he could see the anticipation light up in her eyes. "And so far it's been very good. I hope that you and your colleagues will be able to complete this task I have for you."

Fiume blushed, embarrassed by the compliment. "Oh, well, Ammiraglio, thank you very much, but it was really thanks to everyone else..." She petered off, unable to finish.

The Ammiraglio, however, didn't seem to notice. He smiled indulgently and ploughed on. "For this task, you'll be taking a full battle squadron," he stiffened, becoming businesslike. "You'll have Impero, Aquila, and the other three will be up to you. Do you understand?"

Fiume's head span. _A battle squadron? With Impero as second, not as flagship? What was the meaning of this?_

"Sir...? Am I to be flagship for this task?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes, you are," the Ammiraglio shuffled his papers, but saw her growing discomfort. In a swift movement he got up and around the desk, and held Fiume close to comfort her. "I know, I know, it's a big responsibility, but you'll be fine, okay?"

He held her for a moment, and then broke the embrace. "You must be wondering why you're commanding this squadron. Let me fill you in." He went back behind the desk and pulled out a large map of the world. Laying it flat on his desk he pointed to the southern Atlantic. "We first received reports from our Atlantic outposts of a particularly large German squadron heading in a south-westerly direction, presumably headed for the Far East."

Fiume nodded, comforted. The Ammiraglio continued, "I don't know why they're headed there, and our spies at Wilhelmshaven know nothing of it. Of course, the officials won't tell us a thing about it. That's why I'm sending you out there. Go to Japan. Find out what the might of the Kriegsmarine is doing there."

A silence followed as Fiume digested the enormity of the task at hand. _Find the Kriegsmarine? In the Pacific?_ It was all a little much to bear. At best Fiume managed a tiny nod to show she had understood.

The Ammiraglio considered her for a moment, and then looked down at the map. "The journey will be long, but I am sure that you will be able to make the best of it. Come back here tomorrow when you've picked your squadron, and I'll handle the rest."

Fiume hesitated for a second and quickly glanced at the Ammiraglio, but he was already engrossed with his paperwork. With leaden feet she walked out, her mind filled with nothing but confused thoughts. She stepped out of the villa and into the lamp-lit avenue. As she walked back to the dormitories she pondered over whom to bring for the mission.

Whatever doubts she had in mind, she quickly pushed them out. Her mind ran clear and sharp, picking out the best options in the face of the task. _I've got Impero and Aquila_, she thought to herself, _and I have three others. Who shall they be?_ She thought of her own sisters, Zara and the rest – but she knew that she would have to be fast to catch the German fleet. She decided on Bolzano, the speediest of the Trento sisters. Yes. She would do nicely.

She thought of Guissano, d'Aosta, and Montecuccoli, the light cruisers – but dismissed them, thinking of their better employment at home. The submarines were all over the world, and she was sure that none of them were still left in port.

That left the destroyers. Many of them had never seen waters beyond the Atlantic and Mediterranean, and Fiume thought of Oriani and Aviere, who both had always dreamed the most of seeing the rest of the world. She imagined their excitement at the news, and with that thought knew that they would rise up to the challenge with enthusiasm.

The dormitory corridor was empty as she made her way to her room but halfway down Zara stepped out of her room, arms folded, a mask of jealousy thinly disguised on her aquiline features. Fiume stopped and looked up at her sister.

"So, what did the Ammiraglio want?" Zara asked casually, but there was a biting edge to her tone that Fiume sensed, and she chose her words carefully.

"Nothing much, some administrative duties, that's all-" But it was clear that Zara did not believe a single word of it – in a single fluid motion she pushed Fiume against the wall and pinned her against it with one hand.

"You lie! You've been getting intimate with my dear Ammiraglio, haven't you?" Zara angrily snarled, her eyes flaring.

"I-I don't know what you mean, _sorella_," Fiume hastily responded. "The Ammiraglio just sent for me, we discussed a few things, and-" With a roar of fury and passion Zara took Fiume by the shoulders and lifted her off the floor, shaking her like a ragdoll.

"Tell me! What did you and he talk about? I demand to-" Zara couldn't quite finish her demand as she made an odd gagging sound and suddenly released Fiume. She backed away, and Fiume could see the grey-haired and solemn Cavour, in the black dorm monitor uniform, holding a half-full syringe of green liquid.

Zara collapsed on the floor and Cavour looked down her, without emotion. "No loud noises after nine, Zara. I thought you, of all the girls, should know that." She turned to Fiume, who was catching her breath. "And you, Fiume, you should be in your room now. Go, and don't let me catch you outside after nine again." Cavour smiled thinly, and turned to drag Zara back into her room.

Fiume didn't need a second telling. She hurried into her room, and as she closed the door she could hear gentle laughter and the soft scraping of a body being dragged on carpet.

Four hectic days of preparation and trials passed. At last, Fiume stood on the marina pier, surrounded by her companions for the mission – Impero, shocking red hair bobbing in the breeze, lithe and strong; Aquila, with her great arbalest and flight deck pavise, standing tall in the sun; and Bolzano with her multitude of batteries and long sword at her side, playing with the two little destroyers, Oriani and Aviere, who ran rings around Bolzano in their excitement.

To farewell them the Ammiraglio was there – next to him the stunning blonde of a battleship Littorio stood, martial and dignified. Off on the quay stood Guissano, Barbarico, and a number of the little destroyers all frantically waving streamers in the usual effusive farewell.

"Pacific Squadron, reporting for duty, sir!" Fiume stepped forward and saluted, her rigid fingers barely brushing against the visor of her cap.

The Ammiraglio returned the salute, and so did Littorio. As the hands came down the Ammiraglio and Fiume stepped forward to shake hands, as a sign of good fortune – but the Ammiraglio surprised everyone by kneeling on one knee and coming down to her level.

"Fiume, I wish the very best of luck for your mission. May God look upon your work and smile," the Ammiraglio murmured to her. It was an unusual farewell, but Fiume understood its meaning. She nodded once in acknowledgement – and the Ammiraglio smiled and stood up straight. On the quay the throng cheered louder, and behind him Littorio smiled as well, radiating approval.

Fiume stepped away, and pivoted to face the assembled squadron. "Pacific Squadron, let's go!" she shouted, taking a big leap into the harbour. The other girls jumped in after her, and with a great roar they steamed off, streaking past the harbour lighthouse and into the blue Mediterranean. The race was on!


	2. Unexpected Rendevous

There was very little bruising – nothing a little rest out of the battle wouldn't fix. Fiume examined the weeping Oriani a little closer – yes, the shell had drawn blood. A thin red line trickled from under the bandana the girl wore.

"You're going to be alright, Oriani," Fiume shouted over the din of cannon, "Just a little blood – your bandana should take care of it."

Oriani looked up, her face wet with tears but grinning all the while. "Grazie, Fiume."

"Are you alright to sit out of this one?"

"I reckon so."

As Oriani limped off the battlefield with Aviere, Fiume turned her attention back to the battle. She observed Impero blasting broadside after broadside, looking somewhat bored; Aquila crouching down behind her pavise, reloading her arbalest while shells glanced off her steel shield; and Bolzano, brandishing her chipped sword at the floundering Abyssal ships as she fired her own broadsides.

Fiume sped off towards Impero, whose guns fell silent just as she stopped. A column of black smoke trailed upwards in the far distance, and the Abyssals were nowhere to be seen.

"That, I suppose, was the last of them." Impero airily commented. There was a stench of cordite as the white smoke trailed out of the cooling barrels.

"Just in time, too!" Aquila piped up, "I'm almost out of Reggianes! I don't think I could have fired off another wave."

"Aw, is that all?" Steel rang against steel as Bolzano sheathed her sword with a flourish. "I could've easily pounded another couple of them to dust!"

Fiume smiled – in the week that the Pacific Squadron had left the days had been full of pranks, incidents and of course, battles. They were just about to exit the Red Sea when they had come down like wolves on an unsuspecting pack of Abyssal destroyers.

"Was that too easy? Well, never mind, we've still got a long way ahead of us. Come on, let's-"

"Signorina!" Aviere interrupted, still supporting her wounded charge. "What about Oriani?"

"Oh!" Fiume had nearly forgotten about their single casualty. "I guess we'll have to find a safe cove to repair," she said. "In the meantime, though-"

She moved next to the wounded destroyer and with all her might lifted Oriani into her arms. "This'll have to do," Fiume murmured, half to the sniffling Oriani and half to herself. "Squadron, move out!"

But the search for a quiet harbour eluded the girls' search – not even the far-seeing eyes of Aquila's spotters could pick out a haven free from the flocks of Abyssal ships that guarded the shoreline.

Exasperated, tired, and demoralized, the squadron sailed on, passing the Gulf, morale slipping by the hour. It came to a point where even the cheerful and bombastic Bolzano was dragging her feet, muttering curses under her breath. Fiume herself was beginning to feel the weight of the incumbent destroyer, who had settled into a peaceful nap.

"God, this is utterly hopeless! If we don't find a harbour soon, we'll be forced to sail by night!" Fiume exclaimed at one point, as the sun drew a bloody line across the horizon.

There was a collective groan from the rest of the ships. Desperation gripped Fiume as the sky rapidly darkened, gold fading into red, and red fading into darker blue…

Then, quite unexpectedly, a voice could be heard.

"Surfacing, all ships steer clear… hee hee," the voice lazily intoned.

A resounding chorus of ratchets and clicks filled the air as every gun on every ship of the dispirited squadron sprang into life, pointing in every direction.

"Who's there?" Fiume called into the fading light.

"_Tu chi sei_? Friend or beast? Wait, you're no beast, you can talk!"

A small light shone from the dim sea – then a head of a teenage girl appeared, a hand next to her holding a torch pointed straight at them.

"Hold on, those colours… you wouldn't happen to be from headquarters, would you?"

Fiume didn't answer. She was too stunned to do so, but Impero spoke for her.

"Yes, we're the newly-formed Pacific Squadron. I'm Impero," she pointed to herself; "that's Aquila-" the great carrier bowed her head; "Bolzano, Aviere, Oriani-" the other three nodded as well; "and our flagship, Fiume," she finished. Fiume managed a weak smile.

"_Compagni_! Where are my manners? I'm Torricelli," the girl rose to a sitting position on the sea surface, surveying the other ships with her milky-blue eyes. She wore a red and white striped bathing suit, her slick blonde hair tied back into a neat bun. "I'm of the Brin-class submarines; it is a pleasure to meet you all. But what are my fellow comrades doing so far from home?"

Fiume found the strength to speak at last. "We need help," she implored, "We don't know anything of these waters aside from the maps we've studied. We need a safe harbour to encamp for tonight, and little Oriani here is hurt." Fiume nodded down at the weary destroyer in her arms.

Torricelli beamed. "Ah, how could I refuse my comrades safe harbour? Come with me! I shall lead you to safety!"

* * *

><p>Torricelli's harbour turned out to be not very far off at all. Sailing in tight formation to the east Torricelli led them through a gap in the rocky cliffs. Through the small river the ships sailed – only to be greeted by an astonishing sight.<p>

The path widened and opened into a large, sheltered cove with a comfortable strip of beach lining the far side. A few sheds of corrugated iron and jungle wood littered the centre of the beach, but aside from that the place was pristine.

The Pacific Squadron sailed into the lagoon gratefully, the cheerful Torricelli chatting with Aquila and Impero, while Bolzano and the destroyers raced for the shore, revelling in the soft sand that felt as good as their beds at home. Fiume sailed alone, halfway to the shore but just ahead of Torricelli and the rest.

She moved onto the shore and immediately collapsed onto the sand. Rolling in the soft sand she sighed, and secretly wished to lie there forever. The sky darkened to the deepest black at last – only the kerosene lamps scattered around the beach gave any light. She could see the faint outline of the submarine that had saved them all move towards a depression on the beach, a sort of shallow pit.

There was crackling of crumbling branches and a flicker of orange flame – a flame that illuminated the shadows of everyone, throwing them into harsh relief.

They all moved towards the fire, drawn to its warmth, warmth scarcely found in the cold night of the Indian Ocean. In almost no time at all the two little destroyers had slumped onto the sand, succumbing to sleep. Bolzano followed them a little while after.

Fiume watched her tired squadron slowly descend into slumber, trying her hardest to keep her eyes wide open. She saw Impero recline and cuddle close to the merrily-dancing flames, Aquila propping up her shield as a makeshift shelter and resting under the odd tent; before collapsing herself – but as she slipped into sleep she could hear the fruity voice of the fire-stoking Torricelli.

"It's all so nice to have companions after all this time, isn't it? So nice indeed…"

Fiume tried to make sense of the submarine's remark, but like the waves' gentle but relentless march her fatigue finally caught up with her. She sank onto the sand, fast asleep.


	3. Breakfast and Torpedoes

_Author's note: A special thanks to Andrea V. for the Italian series is dedicated to the Italians, and it's wonderful to see such enthusiasm~_

* * *

><p>Sunrise came quickly on the Arabian coast.<p>

Fiume rose wearily, fatigue still set in her bones. She cast a quick glance over the sheltered inlet, the light-blue hue of the water just visible in the increasing light. Her eyes swept to the rest of the beach – the two destroyers still slept soundly by the fire-pit, while Impero chatted lightly with Aquila and Bolzano, the latter helping the cheery carrier crack eggs onto the sizzling pavise. There was no sign of Torricelli.

"Buongiorno, Fiume. Breakfast now or later?" Aquila stoked the fire, humming an old sea-tune while Impero and Bolzano waved her in.

"Adesso, per favore: sto morendo di fame," Fiume replied. "Where's Torricelli?"

"Don't know. None of us have seen her this morning." Bolzano said. The eggs on the pavise crackled as they whitened and crisped around the edges. Aquila quickly scraped them up and deposited them on the side. The other girls dug in, and Fiume gasped as the heat of the yolk singed her tongue.

"Easy now, there's more of that coming." Aquila remonstrated, waggling a gloved finger at the panting flagship. "Where is that Torricelli? Hope she's brought some fish in…" They all turned towards the waters, but the waves remained undisturbed.

"Isn't a bit risky to fish around here? There are a lot of enemy destroyers in the area." Impero tore into her egg, yellow yolk trickling down her chin.

"I'm sure she'll be alright," Aquila soothed.

* * *

><p>Torricelli's heart hammered a panicked rhythm as explosion after explosion rocked the waters, sending schools of bream scattering. Above her three dark sharks circled the surface, scattering the sunlight and<p>

The little submarine swam for the coral as another ugly, jagged charge drifted down. The shock of the resounding explosion, dulled by the water, sent her sprawling onto the sand. But she was not sunk yet.

Kicking out her flippers she darted from rock to rock, feeling the strain of her air reserves as the meter on her wrist ticked down to her doom. She glanced down at it – twenty minutes left.

_This has to end, _she thought to herself. _This must end now!_

Tugging at her belt she drew a few torpedoes from her pouch. With a light push off the rock that she hid behind she raced for the surface. The three black destroyers, circling the site of her crash-dive, turned for her. But before they could fire their guns she cast the torpedoes in a wide pattern, straight for her pursuers.

She didn't even break the surface to gasp for air as she raced back for the bottom. She glanced again at her meter – ten minutes left.

Torricelli dived for a small rocky overhang at the bottom, straining her ears out for her torpedoes.

One rumble. Two rumbles.

Two destroyers sunk. She ducked out of her cover for a moment and saw, with immense relief, two black, viciously snapping destroyers sinking to the bottom. The third was nowhere to be seen.

With a swift kick of the flippers she swam for the surface, checking around warily for the last of her hunters. With just two minutes left she broke the calm surface, breathing in sweet air as if nothing else mattered.

The whistle of a shell in flight brought her back to her senses. It landed just over her head and splashed harmlessly a few feet away. Turning swiftly around she saw the last destroyer, bearing down fast, and not even stopping to fire again.

"Merda!" With a mouthful of air she plunged back down into the depths. She cast a frantic eye at the meter: with only seconds to spare on the surface, the meter had only gained five minutes – hardly enough.

_Dannazione, dannazione, dannazione! _Torricelli cursed herself for her negligence. Even now the sweet air she had taken in seemed to stale as she watched the black shadow glide over her, dropping several more charges. She dived again, feeling the shock waves of the charges exploding behind her.

As her mind raced to find a way out of her tightening corner, she turned and climbed for the surface, not caring where she went. Grasping the two remaining torpedoes in her hand she braced herself – it was now or never. As she broke the water's surface again she threw the last two with all her might.

The black destroyer was a little slow to turn, and before it could zigzag away the first torpedo struck its flank, but did not explode. A dud!

Torricelli cursed, but watched on, regaining her breath. But before she could bring out her pistol the second torpedo struck home on the side of the destroyer – and this time a huge column of water erupted. Direct hit! With a last snap of its jaws the shark-like vessel slipped under the sea, oozing black, viscous oil from its flank.

She watched it as it sank beneath the waves, but reason came back as the sun shone down among the scattered clouds. Breathing in as much as she could, she turned and swam back for the coast.

* * *

><p>By the time Torricelli surfaced back in the inlet, the two destroyers were already playing in the shallows, while Fiume and the rest lay on the beach.<p>

"Torricelli! Where have you been?" Fiume rose from the sand just as the submarine emerged from the waters, her silky brown hair slicked back and her features worn and haggard.

"God, you look terrible. Che è successo?" Impero ran towards the trembling submarine while Aquila fetched a towel from her satchel.

"There was a battle," Torricelli breathed, as she fought to control her breath. "Three destroyers – all sunk." As Aquila laid the soft white towel over her shoulders she regained her calm. "Sorry for being late…" She unbuttoned her pouch, and out spilled a small sturgeon, several young bream, and a handful of shrimp.

"Va tutto bene, va tutto bene," With Impero and Aquila at her sides Torricelli made her way to the shade of the leafy palms. Under the comforting hands of the rest of the squadron the submarine sat down onto the sand, and regained her breath. Fiume sat with her in the shade while Impero went over to the splashing destroyers in the cool water, and Bolzano scooped up Torricelli's catches and went, cheerfully, with Aquila to cook lunch.

"All better, Torricelli?" Fiume asked.

"Adesso bene, grazie." Torricelli hunched in close, drawing her feet inside the towel. "Fiume, where will you go now?"

The cruiser looked out at the rest of her squadron. Impero stood in the shallows, her red dress barely grazing the water's surface while Oriani and Aviere splashed innocently under her watchful gaze; Aquila stoked her cooking pot over the fire-pit while Bolzano shelled the prawns and expertly scaled the fish. Fiume saw all this, and sighed.

"Our mission orders us to Japan," Fiume said. Torricelli glanced over at her, a surprised look on her face.

"Japan? But… why?"

"I don't know. The Admiral was very specific about it. He said something about the Germans being there-"

"I Tedeschi? What would they be doing there?"

"Who knows?" Fiume shrugged, and massaged her legs, brushing sand off her ankles. "It's all one big adventure, huh?"

Torricelli leaned back on her hands, thinking hard. It was lonely in the Gulf, with nothing but swarms of Abyssal destroyers and cruisers that guarded the coast relentlessly to keep her on her toes. A series of rapid and devastating sea and air raids years ago had all but wiped out the major coastal ports, reducing them to the neglected ruins that now littered the Arabian coast. Only the smallest villages had escaped this campaign, but out of fear of invasion the native population had moved inland, to the safety of the deserts and savannahs.

It was hard, too, to make a living out of the constant Abyssal presence. Once domination of the Arabian and East African coast had been assured, the Abyssals proceeded to build their stronghold on the island of Socotra. With that crucial island in their grasp the Gulf navies had effectively been neutralized.

Torricelli considered all of this, while Fiume rested easily beside her. The wind carried whispers of bustling cities and merry villages, mingled with the derisive calls of gulls and the squeak of sail tackle, but both knew such whispers were echoes of the past – a past age that none of their kind had ever existed in.

"Fiume," Torricelli began, "You must know that to clear the Gulf, you must go past Socotra?"

"L'isola? Can't we avoid that? We could just swing to the south and race for Colombo."

"Impossibile. The patrols sweep in such a wide arc around it that it covers all approaches. All the coasts are heavily guarded as well, so no chance there as well."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Fiume's face. "Well then, as you say, another fight is inevitable. I wouldn't believe it if we managed to get all the way to Singapore without fighting a single battle."

Torricelli looked at her. "Then why don't I come along?" A smile crept on the submarine's slick face. "You're going to need my help if you want to get out of here."

Fiume smiled at the submarine, who grinned back, baring all of her dazzling white teeth. The heavy cruiser regarded her new companion – a companion who would serve them well in the battles to come.


End file.
